


Die With Your Mask On

by A_Ghost_Called_Boo



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Grief, Loss, Nonbinary Agent Cherri Cola (Danger Days), Nonbinary Fun Ghoul (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Nonbinary Show Pony (Danger Days), Trans Jet Star (Danger Days), no editing. we die like dumbasses who finish writing fics at 2 am, this took. so long to write. please appreciate it, we are mentally ill in this chilli's tonight lads <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Ghost_Called_Boo/pseuds/A_Ghost_Called_Boo
Summary: Better Living rids of everything it deems useless or unsightly, so what if one day they decide they don't need the killjoys anymore?
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola & Dr. Death Defying & Show Pony (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 12





	Die With Your Mask On

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to keep it real with u chief, no one's having a good time in this one, but especially not Poison.
> 
> Moral of the story is: don't let a depressed 16 y/o come up with your entire fic plot and definitely don't write it as a pissed off 17 y/o or you'll end up with 5k+ words of pure angst

The Diner was never quiet, be it because of the animated clatter of the killjoys’ daily lives or the silent cries and whispered words of reassurance in the middle of the night. Still, as the Four sat gathered around the old radio, not a word was uttered, perhaps in fear not to be swallowed by the static like Doctor Death Defying’s voice had just moments ago. That’s something else that was never quiet. For as long as the killjoys can remember, WKIL had been the sound of rebellion in the zones, broadcasting loud and proud rock’n’roll music for whatever wandering soul stumbled upon their frequency. Now all that played was white noise and if you listened closely, you might’ve recognized that it was the same sound the world makes as it shatters around you. Radio silence. Lonely and unforgiving like the words that caused it in the first place.

Perhaps the high-pitched noise cutting off the DJ’s words should’ve been a dead giveaway that something was wrong. Or maybe the way the Doctor had seemed nervous, trailing off mid sentences and stumbling over his words like he was constantly looking over his shoulder for some shadow looming menacingly behind him. And yet, even as the voice of a woman spoke cold and clear like a dagger made of ice, the teenage rebels couldn’t quite grapple what exactly made it so unsettling.

“Have you ever had a pest infestation?” she had started, words manicured precisely to a fine point, and if it wasn’t for the curious circumstances of the question, most would’ve turned off their radios at this point.

“ _Insects_ , that try as you might, you can’t get rid of. So you decide to get someone more... _qualified_ to deal with it. An exterminator. But even then, _the pests just keep crawling_ _all over the place_ , nestling in every crack in the wall and every nook there is. Quite bothersome, _isn’t it?_ ” the woman paused and it would’ve been enough to make even the most stoic killjoys shiver, “That is why me and a team of Battery City officials have decided to hold a mass _disinfestation_ event this evening. The Council advises citizens to lock their doors and keep away from their windows while our brave S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W officers deal with the _pest situation_. Remember a clean city is a _happy city_! Have a better day.” 

And just like that, the Zones received their ultimatum: two decades worth of rebellion ended by a chirpy three note jingle that swept through the desert like a wraith, sucking the life and color out of its inhabitants until there was only static. It’s strange how something once comforting can become so crushing in the wrong light, but no one had the guts to turn it off anymore, instead allowing the grief slowly sink in like a stone weighing on their hearts.

There was no air left in the diner, only four teenagers- four former  _ fabulous killjoys _ \- scared and broken and angry and alone. Some would argue it’s always been that way, that being a killjoy was painful and unforgiving, but they would be wrong because despite everything it has never been  _ like this. _ It was never this hopeless. Never so final. Things were never  _ supposed  _ to end like this, but Better Living didn’t abide by what should or would or could’ve happened. All they cared about is their perfectly crafted version of what life was supposed to look like, of how things were supposed to be consumed.

“I can’t go back there...” Ghoul spoke barely above a whisper, the sound almost being drowned out by the noise pouring from the radio speakers that seemed to echo their thoughts back a million times louder. 

It was loud enough for the others to hear and snap out of their thoughts and back to the real world where the sun was just peeking in from under the top of the window frame, though, where there was a radio wasting away playing nothing at all and where they were all sitting huddled together like kids, threatening to spill out of the worn out booth. Ghoul was half-sitting on Kobra’s lap, clinging tightly onto him with their face almost entirely hidden in the booth behind his jacket’s sleeve, but not even all the layers of fabric could fully drown out the sniffles and quiet sobs. The younger had his free hand- the one Ghoul  _ wasn’t  _ hiding behind- on top of his friends arm and rubbed his thumb against it in a rhythmic motion that he hoped was somehow comforting as he looked at his sibling.

Poison looked right back at him and then up at Jet, who was sitting on the other side of the booth, quietly searching for some sort of help or any sort of input from the other, but the older didn’t even meet their eyes as he stared blankly ahead of him with a frown. Right, so Poison would have to deal with this one on their own- they were the leader, they could certainly manage it, right? They would’ve managed it even better if  _ their brother wasn’t staring holes into the side of their head _ .

“We won’t let them take you- _ take any of us _ .” they begun and it had felt good for about three seconds before they realised they had to follow it up with an actual plan, “Okay, look: we’ve spent our whole life in the zones running, but now? Now there’s nowhere left to run, so i say it’s time  _ we fight _ . The only way we’re leaving this place is in a cellophane bag- that much is certain- but then why not go out with a bang?”

No one said anything at first, but they seemed to have at least caught Jet’s attention and convinced Kobra to consider what they were saying, so they took that as a temptative win. They’d need many of those for the plan that even then was only starting to take shape in their mind, but they were doing something and the longer they were doing it, the longer they could pretend that Better Living hadn’t somehow hijacked WKIL’s frequency or that Madame Director had just pronounced their home’s ultimatum only minutes ago and that she hadn’t called them and the people they had grown to consider their friends and family  _ pests _ . Those were definitely all unimportant details.

Eventually Ghoul came out reluctantly from behind Kobra’s arm, propping their head against the taller’s chest with puffy eyes and wet teartrails going down their face as they sniffled a quiet “okay”. They look tired and as the younger shifts so he can put an arm around them protectively, Poison couldn’t help but notice just how much the two acted like when Cola had picked them off the curb of Guano- the black-haired killjoy hanging tightly onto their taller friend much like a kid would to their teddy bear, while the other looks ready to throw down with anyone who dares cross him. There’s something about seeing them like this that made the red-haired leader’s chest ache, but they shook it off, instead motioning the others to follow them as they file out of the faded red booth.

Outside, the sun was burning hot, like even it had heard the news that were broadcasted on the airwaves and started crying tears of molten gold over the desert to mourn what would be lost later that very same evening. The Four didn’t know about that yet, though, so they just beelined for the Trans AM and hit the gas, letting the wind whirr around inside the car in hopes it’d help cool them off in lieu of a functioning air conditioning that didn’t harbour half of the dust in the desert. Or perhaps it was meant to drown out their thoughts with the way it roared in their ears as it passed by, wild and careless about the mess it left behind.

After a while of driving around aimlessly, Poison bit the bullet and asked in the most casual way they could over the noise in the car, “So, where should we go today, kids?”

“D’s radio shack.” the answer came and despite the fact that they’d expected it, the older still had to pretend to adjust the rearview mirror before even looking at their brother in the backseat who was already nailing them down with a glare through the reflective surface.

“I’m sure they have enough shit going on without us sitting in the way, Kobes.” the driver settles on responding with a click of their tongue. Truth was that if Better Living had managed to hijack WKIL’s transmission, Poison wasn’t sure they wanted to know whatever scene would be waiting for them at the station, though they could guess the black and white littering the ground next to miniature lakes of sticky maroon.

“What about the Tommy’s in Two?” Jet suggested and the killjoy in the driver’s seat next to him almost made the car swerve off the road with how sudden his voice had jerked them out of their thoughts. Meanwhile, he had returned to staring out the window, but an inkling of hope had begun to tug at Poison’s heart that maybe even if the world was going to shit they’d still have their family by their side in the end, no matter what- a dangerous thought to entertain, but it wasn’t like their other ones were any better.

“You heard the man.” they shrugged, flipping Kobra off when he stuck his tongue out at them and earning a quiet chuckle from Ghoul before turning the car around with a small grin of their own, “Time to buy ourselves a fighting chance, tumbleweeds.”

The Trans Am flew like a hot white laser beam across the desert backsplash of color, the roar of the engine cutting through the static that echoed throughout the Zones like a knife through thick curtains- restless and tearing through anything standing in its way. Serenity Hill Motel, as the old slowly decaying pre-war facility was known as and Tommy Chow Mein’s- the Zones very own, what had he called it... _ antrepreneur _ \- favourite location to set up shop seeing as it was often that undergrads fresh off the school desks of Battery City would end up there. That day was different, though, the crowd spilling from the small shop bearing the unmistakable colors of zonerats with all sorts of unique outfits and masks all customised to match their owner’s colors.

It wasn’t apparent to the leader at first that, caught amidst all of the motions, the four of them had forgotten their masks back at the Diner, but as their eyes landed on the strangers huddled together in front of the shop they cursed quietly at themself before ducking their head back inside the car. The glovebox wasn’t much help, Poison found out as they rummaged through a couple years worth of junk that had been thrown in there without a second thought, but it did have a pair of thin-rimmed sunglasses and a dark blue bandana with a white star pattern they vaguely remember Jet having about a lifetime ago. 

As Poison put on the glasses and pocketed the bandana, they found that the red-tinted lenses of the glasses gave the world around them a pinkish hue which was rather ironic seeing as their situation was anything but. Outside, Jet Star was leaning against the side of the car while looking out onto the mass of colorful rebels, a glimpse of something stuck in the corner of his eye the other couldn’t quite make out or ask about. Perched on top of the trunk of the Am were Ghoul and Kobra mumbling quietly amongst themselves as they leaned against each other with legs swinging over the edge. Normally, the red-haired teen would’ve told them off for doing so, but this time they only lowered themself to Ghoul’s eye level and tapped them on the knee to get their attention.

“I need your help with something.” they started, holding out the bandana to the younger and waiting for them to take it before speaking again, “Do you think you’ve got anything that’ll get their attention?” Poison nodded towards the crowd and the latter followed where they were pointing to, pausing with a thoughtful expression before nodding  _ ‘yes’  _ and hopping down from where they sat, taking Kobra with them much to his disapproval.

They watched them working for a moment, a sickly bitter-sweet tasting slowly building up to the back of their tongue before they had to tear their eyes away and nearly bumped into Jet who stared blankly at the two for a beat too long before looking down at the younger ‘joy in front of him, which made them involuntarily tense up.

“Supplies.” he said steadily, though slightly tilting his head as he did so, letting on that it was more of a question than a statement.

Poison nodded slowly, still a little startled by their crewmate’s ghostly mannerisms as he drifted away from the car and into the make-shift shop. Their eyes followed him carefully as he disappeared through the building’s threshold before a tired sigh escaped them as they dragged a hand down one side of their face, thoughts crashing violently into each other inside their head- fears mixing in with plans and trying to drown out the delicate stings of hope they tightly grasped onto. You see, Party Poison  _ was  _ a leader, it’s just that they hadn’t quite realised until that moment that the others did just about as much leading as them because while they were a team, they were a family as well.

By the time everything was set up and Jet had returned with the supplies for the incoming battle the sun had inched in even closer to the horizon line, the hot rays that glinted off their sunglasses seemingly having turned their insides into a bubbling cauldron of tar. They took a deep breath, in a futile attempt to push down the sticky feeling building up in their throat, averting their gaze from the crowd milling impatiently like ants under a magnifier glass and being met with a half-smile and thumbs-up from Ghoul. If they tried to smile it fell flat as soon as it appeared, melting off like an ice cube in the middle of july, before they climbed onto the trunk of the Am and then onto the car’s roof that’d serve as their stage while they gave one final graduation speech; funny how they even gave them a diploma at the end of it all.

From the corner of their eye they could see Ghoul light up the few fireworks lined in front of them like a makeshift curtain that went down- or more appropriately  _ up _ \- with a bang, making the rebels turn to them somewhere between pissed off and scared shitless.

  
“Look at yourselves! You’re pathetic- a bunch of cowards is what you are.” the crowd thundered loudly at their words, like a storm brewing over the horizon threatening to wipe out everything in its path, the only thing stopping them from tearing down the red-haired crash queen being the three killjoys standing either side of them with guns drawn.

“ _ Is this how you want to go? _ ” Poison yelled over the clatter when the noise didn’t subside, “You want to run away and fucking hide? Want to act like the fucking rats they say you are? You’re supposed to be killjoys- Better Living’s worst nightmare terrorizing their sanitized lives with color and rock’n’roll. What the hell happened here? Where are these feared rebels i keep hearing about, because i see  _ none of that _ . ”

“Just because  _ you  _ want to play hero, party boy, doesn’t mean  _ we  _ have to follow you.” someone said over the mutters of their peers, only making them grow louder.

“Call me ‘boy’ one more time and i’ll show  _ you  _ a party, got it?” they snarled, baring their teeth in a sharp smile with the edge of a feral coyote’s growl, “If you haven’t noticed mum and dad are coming home and we’ve all stayed up way past out bedtime. I’m not saying anyone has to follow, i’m just saying we have some fucking dignity and go down like killjoys not some stupid pests they think we are.”

The crowd started muttering among themselves and for the briefest moment the red-haired leader thought that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , this could end up fine by some fucked up stroke of luck that would show itself when they needed most; but it didn’t. Their heart plummets in their chest, like an Icarus that flew too close to the sun, as the mass of people before them dispersed and set off their different ways until all that was left from it was a lone ‘joy that didn’t seem any older than most of the Zones’ residents were when they first made it out there- barely a kid, by all accounts, but that didn’t mean much anymore those days. 

“Do you really want to go against the ‘crows at sunset?” the kid said, trying to keep on a straight face to make them appear older than they were, but their voice betrayed them, letting the tiniest glimpse of wonder come through. Poison nodded in response, too afraid that if they opened their mouth at that moment all their insecurities would come cascading out. No one deserved to have to hear that, especially not someone so young.

The kid nodded back, putting on the mask of a thoughtful expression before declaring, “Alright, i can get behind that- think i know some motorbabies who will too. I’ll spread the word for you. Good luck and keep running, killjoys!” they grinned before taking off without even noticing the rebel leader still nodding their head like a bobble head on the dashboard of a car speeding towards a concrete wall.

And somewhere in the middle of their brain rattling around in their skull like a die, the weight of it all finally  _ fully  _ hit Poison, settling in their bones and making their knees give out from under them. The ground was hot and coarse and all-together unpleasant to lay on, but as tiny pebbles dug into their cheek they couldn’t help but feel like they  _ didn’t  _ want to get up even if they could. What good would it do anyways? They couldn’t even convince  _ themself  _ to get up and fight, no wonder their speech fell flat and the crowd had gone away so fast. They’d lost everything in only a few hours- the WKIL crew, who’d saved their life all those years ago, their crew that was now broken and distant like they were strangers once again and soon they’d lose their home too- and maybe that warranted moping face-down in the dirt, but Poison could never forgive themself regardless if it was justified or not. Because they had failed. They were a failure.

Light felt like tiny shards of glass stuck behind their eyelids when they finally were dragged up by a pair of hands and some twisted part of their mind almost wanted them to belong to a ‘crow who’d put them in a snug little cellophane bag and throw them away to forgiveness. Instead, the person dragging them plopped them back in the driver seat of the Am as Poison just slumped over the steering wheel like a soggy pillow. For a moment there was silence and for a terrifyingly long moment they were almost certain they’d been left alone entirely before a door slammed shut and the radio turned on, volume going up until the static sounded like the thoughts crashing around in their head times a thousand.

When they finally brought themself to reach out for the volume button, their hand was stopped halfway there, hovering limply from where it had been grasped by the forearm. Kobra was now in the shotgun seat, Poison belatedly realised as they looked up to see him fixing them with a hard stare which made them try to wiggle their arm out of their brother’s clutch to no avail. Eventually, they gave up, slumping back into their seat until it almost just swallowed them whole and waited for the rant that the younger must’ve had in store for them- a completely warranted one, in Poison’s opinion, not that that made the dread bubbling in the pit of their stomach any better. 

The blonde killjoy didn’t yell at them as anticipated, but instead said steadily, “I bet i can shoot more dracs than you.” and it took Poison a moment to understand what he had just done: he’d set up a bet for them- something that wasn’t like themself to turn down.

“That’s bullshit.” Jet quipped in from the back before the red-haired ‘joy could give an answer, making Kobra turn in his seat to face him.

“Yeah,” Ghoul agreed, a faint hint of mischief in their voice, “I obviously can shoot as many dracs as you two combined.”

“In your  _ dreams _ .” the younger scoffed, making his friend let out a gasp in faux offence.

“Hey, i’m just saying i can shoot two guns at the same time-  _ can you? _ ” they shrugged, evidently trying and failing to bite back a smirk.

“What gun?” the oldest killjoy said and it took the sorter a few almost comically long moments of checking their holster and the backseats for the missing blaster before they looked up at Jet who was holding the green painted weapon just out of their reach with a teasing smile.

“Motherfucker!” Ghoul accused, wagging a finger at him and Poison couldn’t help themself from bursting into laughter at the scene, for reasons they themself couldn’t quite understand- maybe it was the familiarity of it all or maybe they were just going crazy, who was to say? 

When they finally managed to stop in favour of allowing their lungs the air they desperately craved, silence fell over the four again, all eyes landing on Poison and making their guts slowly start contorting themselves in impossible shapes. Quietly, Kobra placed a hand on his sibling’s shoulder, giving them what he hoped to read as a small half-apologetic half-reassuring smile when they flinched out of their thoughts.

“Prove me wrong?” he offered, trying to egg the older on despite the tense air that hung inside the car. 

“Yeah...” they sighed, a small smile creeping on their face, “Yeah, i think i will.”

Their hand froze midair again- only this time as they were reaching for the keys resting in the car’s ignition- at the sound of the radio cackling back to life with the familiar voice of a friend thought dead.

“Look alive, tumbleweeds- the vultures are circling high, but they're never gonna take our 1-0-9. We apologise for the technical difficulties, but The Pony just brought me today’s 411 and you better have your trigger finger ready ‘cuz it looks like there’s a party’s brewing on the horizon.” the Doctor said, and somewhere under the utter shock and disbelief Poison idly wondered if he was talking about them- but that would’ve been  _ impossible _ , right?

“Word comes from Tommy Chow Mein’s that a bunch of bottlerocket kids are putting together a welcome committee for our houseguests, so dust off your technicolor and grab a friend because when the sun bleeds into the desert tonight, we all become the a-bomb.” Cherri Cola’s voice came next, and the red haired killjoy’s heart nearly seizes at the nickname they used to call them when they were kids.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Sodapop! Sadly, i’ll have to leave you darlings ‘cause this pony’s still got some kicking left to do, but i’m sure these two dinosaurs won’t bore you too badly while i’m away. May Destroya watch over you and the Witch guide your soul to safety.” Show Pony’s voice came through the speaker next and Poison could almost see the crooked smile ey always had when making a joke- an image that contrasted starkly with the song that cut into the words like a sharp blade. It was loud and angry and it made the red haired killjoy want to punch out that damned radio from the dashboard, but maybe that’s exactly what they needed as the sudden surge of rage gave them what it took to twist the key in the ignition and step on the gas.

The ride to the border of Zone Two and Zone One was all a blur to them, vaguely registering Kobra’s monosyllabic protests whenever they veered too sharply in order to narrowly avoid crashing full force into anything and everything unfortunate enough to be in the Am’s path. Everything was tinted red and it was more than the making of a cheap pair of dusty sunglasses that had been carelessly thrown into the glovebox a lifetime ago. No, that one was the kind of red that made Poison’s fingers itch, their bones ache, the kind that tore their insides apart and set their brain on fire. It was red like their hair, like a riot and a celebration, like having their own fucking blood on their hands, like setting the world on fire and watching the motherfucker burn- afterall, they had  _ nothing  _ left to lose, right?

Thanks to Dr. D’s broadcast there were already people waiting for the four when they arrived to the border. They were nice, the red-haired killjoy guessed, but if you were to hold them at gunpoint they wouldn’t vouch for it- they  _ couldn’t  _ vouch for it because while the others seemed more keen on mingling with the colorful strangers, they just stared down the horizon looking for shiny white dots cutting through the dirt and grime like purifying lights. More and more people get together as the sky shifts is hue and the ground beneath Poison feels like it does too. Some are young, some are old, some are laughing seemingly unaware of their own doom, some are quietly solemn, some are anxiously milling around and others are transfixed onto the expanse of Zone One in front of them much like the leader of the Fab Four.

All it took was one car to come barreling down the cracked asphalt of Route Guano that the others followed shortly like a flock of doves blacking out the sun. They all stopped in syncronised motion, leaving their cars behind and walking up to the killjoys that had meanwhile clumsily lined along their side of the border with hands clutched around the hilt of their blasters and minds reeling from everything coming down on them full-force at last. It was all useless, as Korse stepped up to the young killjoys glaring at him through red-tinted glasses and said with a grin, “Let’s see where you run now.” before making a hand gesture that unleashed the sea of dracs behind him onto the zone-dwellers, swallowing the exterminator in their ranks.

Poison was the first to go in- all but frothing at the mouth- shoving, elbowing, punching and shooting any drac that came between them and Korse who swam in and out of their vision getting lost in the nauseating blacks and whites that gained a new shade of red as the killjoy made their way through the commotion. Blood was roaring in their ears so loud- louder than the Trans Am and Ghoul’s bombs and Jet’s music and Kobra’s constant bitching- and their heart was just about to beat out of their chest as they reached out and pulled the exterminator down like tearing down wanted posters off of the Lobby’s walls. He was smiling like he was in on some kind of fucking joke Poison wasn’t in on and it made their blood boil as they pressed their blaster to his head.

“What?” they barked demandingly, digging the scorched plastic gun barrel into the older’s skin.

“You really think you’re going to accomplish anything with your little stunt, Poison? You’re obsolete- accept it already and this’ll be way easier...” Korse trailed off, slowly reaching for his gun, but the rebel kicked him hard in the gut making him drop it to the ground with a clatter.

“ _ You’re _ obsolete, old man.” the red haired joy snarled, pushing the white puritan into the commotion with their boot and crouching down to press their blaster against the underside of the exterminator’s chin, “Now, take your fucking dogs and go all the way back to that pretty little boss of yours and tell her. We’re. Not. Going.  _ Anywhere _ .”

Korse’s smile only got bigger and Poison cursed themself for not listening to their instincts and shooting the old fucker as he nodded behind them and said, “I think you have more pressing matters now, sunshine.”

A few good feet away from the two, there was a group of dracs huddled together like vultures over some poor dead thing’s carcass, only in this case the carcass was their younger brother screaming profanities and trashing around like he was trying to invoke the wrath of Destroya and the Witch themselves. The realisation made their heart stagger and blood run cold, but just as they got their legs to cooperate they tripped like some sort of newborn fawn, falling into the dirt. They hissed in pain as Korse kicked them in the ribs and picked them by the collar of their jacket, ripping the yellow beat-up blaster out of Poison’s death grip and throwing them aside like a kid abandoning their toys once they got bored.

The killjoy coughed and spluttered on the ground, their lungs burning from the dust and lack of air, before pushing themself up and tackling the closest drac who fell without a sound other than a stray ray gun shot like a shitty plastic tree in a forest filled with plasma birds singing a symphony of annihilation. Knuckles bashed repeatedly against a latex face and sharp nails dug though white gloves into arms, staining them red like the dripping mouth of the mask, until the dracula went still and its blaster fell to the ground with a clatter for the rebel to pick up. Pushing through the crowd, they made quick work of the mindless drones, shoving, blasting away and ignoring the searing pain where the dracs’ phasers burned through their jacket.

It wasn’t until the last of the black and whites bit the dust that they saw Kobra laying there, limbs tangled uncomfortably and blood dripping down the side of his head and mouth, gazing wordlessly at the golden-plated heavens that turned red on the violent horizon. Poison’s heart beat still and shattered like glass as their legs gave out from under them, which left them to crawl through what felt like miles and grab their younger brother, trying to shake him awake like they used to when they were kids only that time he wouldn’t wake up no matter how many times his sibling called his name and pleaded for him to look at them- to do  _ something _ . Tears threatened to spill from their eyes as the desert weighed them down, but the moment was quickly broken by the voice of someone familiar yelling for them to help them and the killjoy scurried back on their feet, ambling through the chaos like a lost puppy.

Ghoul came into view as Poison shot down a drac that had tried to sneak up on them, all snarls and wide eyes like a feral coyote with a gun in hand and the other pressed against their side, but before the red haired joy could even say anything a pair of hands wrap around their mouth and throat, choking them out. They kicked and trashed in its grasp, but the drac wouldn’t let go until the rebel headbutted it hard and sent the it stumbling backwards which gave them enough time to turn around and shoot the draculoid in the chest. Another shot rang out in the air shortly after and by some twist of fate the young black-haired killjoy crumbled to the ground while the older scrambled on their feet to catch them. There was a wet spot growing red and sticky through their shirt and over their chest, and no matter how hard Poison tried to stop the bleeding it didn’t help as the killjoy coughed and shook until...they didn’t. Until they fell silent and their head went limp to the side and the red haired killjoy didn’t look. They didn’t look, instead grabbing the blaster they took off a drac with shaking red stained hands and pushed themself off the ground.

Finding Jet Star was the easiest of their crewmates to find as there were less dracs that far back, though that still didn’t mean the leader didn’t have to duck to narrowly avoid getting their head shot off before a killjoy with hair reminiscent of cotton candy shot the drac down. If before the fight Jet seemed to be disconnected, right then he was grounded- shooting down white clad enemies with precision and moving in fluid motions like someone who’d been doing it for years. Still, that didn’t mean he had eyes behind his back and Poison’s poor heart nearly beat into cardiac arrest the third time that day when they spotted not one, but  _ two  _ dracs behind him, raising their guns to take aim.

“Jet! Behind you!” is all that the younger had to say for the other killjoy to turn around, barely dodging a hit in the shoulder and shooting down one of the dracs while the red haired ‘joy took care of the other.

They wanted to laugh, but no sound came out as their body suddenly felt incredibly light and heavy at the same time- so much so that their legs gave out from under them, making them eat a face full of dirt and unable to get back up. Jet was still there somewhere on the battlefield shooting dracs and probably trying to get over to them, but that all seemed so distant in their mind. As the world slowly faded out of focus like a hazy mush of colors and sounds and burning light, Poison found themself noticing that the detail on the long cloak seemingly made of dark feathers blocking their view became more and more clear as the world quieted down. Maybe if they weren’t so weak they would’ve been able to crane their neck just enough to catch a glimpse of its owner's face, but they recognized her regardless as her words swam around in their head.

“It’s time to go, Poison. They’re waiting for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry <3\. I take complaints in the comment section below and [ @dead-silxnce ](https://dead-silxnce.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> Also, tell me what u think the Witch is referring to when she says "they are waiting for you" :eyes:


End file.
